Ten Pounds
by GeorgyannWayson
Summary: It all started with a wager (A Holmes family one-shot).


_This one-shot takes place within an established AU for the Holmes family that starts with 'A Small Price to Pay for Her', goes through 'The Beginnings of Us' and up to my current WIP 'Origins'. Though it's within that AU, I have tried to write this in a style that can be read by casual readers. Please enjoy!_

* * *

**Ten Pounds**

Linda looked up from her book at the sound of feet walking down the stairs. With a knowing sigh, she readied herself for the coming interruption by marking her place and fixing the quilt and spare pillow. Without a word exchanged between them, little Sherlock yawned and climbed up into the large armchair to snuggle under the quilt, fixing himself to lie comfortably in his mother's side.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked with a smile as she pet his hair.

It was a few seconds before he spoke. "Mummy, I want to learn how to play the violin."

Well, she certainly wasn't expecting that announcement. "And what, may I ask, brought about this sudden decision?"

"I was listening to David Oistrakh play Tchaikovsky's Concerto at Uncle Eli's yesterday."

"…and?"

"And I thought it sounded neat." Sherlock shrugged. "I want to learn how to play so I can do it too."

"Sherlock, learning to play like Mr. Oistrakh did takes many years of practice, you know," she said after taking a few seconds to think about her response.

"I'm not stupid. It takes an average of at least seven years to begin to even master the violin according to some people. I estimate that I'll be able to do it in four."

Linda managed to catch herself before a laugh slipped from her lips. "So you're saying that by the time you're ten-years-old, you'll be able to play Tchaikovsky's Concerto?" He nodded. "How do you know that you'll even like the violin?"

"How do you know that I won't?"

She chuckled. "Point made." Though she was tempted to dismiss his request, her mind began to dwell on it and she couldn't help but feel that violin lessons weren't a bad idea - not a bad idea at all. "But I'll just tell you," she said slowly, "that if you start lessons, you'll need to go through with them. As in, I want you to still be playing the violin when you're all grown up."

Sherlock sat up to look at her. "How about we lay a wager that I'll still be playing it by the time you're fifty?"

"That's a long time from now."

"Fifteen years isn't that long."

"When you put it like that, I suppose it isn't, but goodness, I can't even imagine being fifty." She hugged him tight, kissing the side of his head. "But I think I'll hold you to that. Ten pounds a good enough wager for you?"

"Deal."

"Good." They sat in silence. "I'll have to ask Daddy if it's okay for you to take lessons, though," she said after a few minutes. "But don't worry, he'll say yes."

"You're sure about that?"

"Oh, of course." She patted his back. "Trust me on that."

* * *

"Absolutely not."

Linda managed to stop the sigh that was about to escape at her husband's incredulous tone from the kitchen table. "I'm not paying for violin lessons," Chris continued with a scoff. "First of all, the budget doesn't allow for them and second of all, it's going to end exactly how the piano lessons did: with a bawling old woman swearing the pox on our household for Sherlock's innocent honesty."

"If her husband had kept his affair with her sister quieter, Sherlock probably wouldn't have felt the need to mention it."

She could feel the prickle of his glare at her back for her nonchalant comment. "But of course, how silly of me not to think about that." Chris finally said after a few seconds. She turned around to face him and set the cloth in her hands aside. "You know, you're always so quick to cater to whatever he wants. When I was his age-" _Here we go around the mountain again_, Linda thought to herself. "I wasn't the slightest bit worried about learning how to play an instrument."

"I would see why you won't be; you're hardly the musical type, darling." She fought to hide a sweet smile at his sigh.

"All I'm trying to say is that no one _needs_ violin lessons. I'm sorry, but the answer's no."

For a minute, the kitchen was completely silent save for the gentle rustle of the morning paper in Chris's hands. Obviously he was done with discussing the issue._ All it takes is a little push._ "You know, you're right, dear."

"And furthermore – wait, what?" Chris blinked, his finger in midair to point. "I-I'm right?"

"Yes, you are." She nodded once. "I don't know what I was thinking, suggesting such a thing as violin lessons. Sherlock's bound to get bored at some point, and then what? Wasted time is all it would be." She casually waved her hand. "Forget that I even mentioned it in the first place."

Chris's eyes slightly narrowed. "This is a trap."

"No-"

"I don't know how and I don't know why you're trying to play it off like it's not, but it is."

She shrugged. "No, you're really right this time."

"But I'm never right. Ever. I haven't been right about anything for the last eighteen years, and now, all of a sudden, I'm just 'right'? And that's that?"

"Yes. You might want to go get dressed before you're late for work." She turned around and moved around the dishes to act as though she was busy. She heard him slowly get up from his seat and felt his stare before he took his leave.

And when she was alone, she let the grin of victory spread across her face. Over the years of being married to Chris, she had learned a thing or two about how to get things done around her home. After all, it was her duty as a wife and mother to make sure all of her men were happy, and though it was hard to swallow her pride and opinion, it was only right that Chris gave -or surrendered- final permission.

_And now we wait for him to crack._

* * *

It didn't take any longer than twelve hours for the fruits of her labor to show themselves.

As she and Chris sat in bed later that night, each of them immersed in a book of their own, she heard the characteristic sigh of deep thought from by her side. With a light flick of a page, she continued to read until Chris shut his book with a soft slap.

"If he does take violin lessons, how are we going to pay for them?" he asked.

"I looked at the budget again, and if we cut back on some needless spending, it can be managed. And as for buying the violin itself, we won't need to. Eli knows someone that's selling an old violin and he'll be bringing it over tomorrow. A late birthday present, he said."

"Huh. All right." Chris slightly shifted to lie on his back. "But we don't know anyone that would be a good teacher for him."

She flipped a page. "Thankfully, my connections with the music department at Cambridge weren't completely useless. Josephine, one of the private tutors, will be coming here on Friday after school. Her credentials are outstanding; I think Sherlock will really like her."

"Well, then, that's – that's good." A pause. "You knew that I was going to end up agreeing to this, didn't you?"

"Of course I did." She shut the book and set it on the bedside table.

"What if I ended up saying no?"

"You wouldn't have." She moved to lie beside him. "You have a very hard time saying no to me." He chuckled and pulled her into his arms to kiss her cheek.

"You could at least try to act as though you're humble about having so much control over me, Puppet Master."

She moved to shut off the lamp. "But where's the fun in that, my dear marionette?" They shared a laugh as they cuddled together.

"Well, who knows, this could be a good thing for him," Chris said, to which Linda smiled.

"Yes, I think it will."

* * *

_Thirty-two Years Later…_

"I just couldn't believe that she would say that. Anyway, after all of that drama was over and done with, Karen came to the house –can you believe such a thing, the silly woman showing her face with all that scandal surrounding her- and she just said-"

Sherlock jumped up from his chair and strolled over to the music stand by the window of 221B to grab his violin. "You know, I've been working on something and I want to show it to you."

Mrs. Holmes blinked and slightly stuttered as John, Mary and Mr. Holmes looked between them in curiosity. "Now? But can't it wait after my story-"

"No, it really can't." Before Mrs. Holmes could further plead her case, Sherlock was playing the beginnings of what sounded like-

_Oh, my goodness._

With gentle vigor, Sherlock played Tchaikovsky's Concerto and the tune seemed to seal off the entire building from whatever was going on in the outside world. Mary got up from her seat on the couch and walked to sit in John's lap, the two of them moving to hold hands. Mrs. Hudson stopped in the doorway of the flat, her entire face glowing with a grin of what Mrs. Holmes could see was a sort of motherly pride. The women exchanged a knowing smile. Whether Sherlock realized it or not, he had a surrogate mother in Martha and Mrs. Holmes couldn't have asked for anyone better to fill that role.

As the last note of the concerto vibrated through the flat, everyone seemed to breathe again and the room flooded with sounds from the street below.

"You owe me ten pounds," Sherlock said as he lowered the violin from his shoulder.

"What?" Mrs. Hudson looked to Mrs. Holmes. "What's he talking about?"

Mrs. Holmes wiped a stray tear from her eye. "Oh, it's nothing," she said as she looked to her husband, who winked. Sherlock set the violin down and took his seat again with a sigh, ignoring the look of confusion from John and the smile from Mary.

"Now, what were you saying about Karen?"

"Uh, oh, it's nothing." Mrs. Holmes sniffled and sat back against the sofa. "So John, I've been meaning to ask you about the case that I read about on your blog. An elephant in a room, was it?"

And though John tried to remind Sherlock that it was a classified case, he was blatantly ignored and Sherlock was recalling the tale with grand, sweeping details. Mrs. Holmes used that time of distraction to etch the memory of what had just happened in her mind and on her heart. Though a part of her all those years ago wasn't sure that Sherlock would actually still be playing the violin as an adult, she was so glad that she took the chance to pursue that instinct and find out. A ten pound wager was all that it took.

_And it was worth every pence._

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**NOTE: Due to circumstances (aka Real Life), I haven't been able to work on much of anything creative. However, I've had an idea for this for quite a long time and I can't get enough of writing family fluff, so here ya go! Hope you all enjoyed!**

**Georgyann**


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